


me and my husband

by luvridden



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Cannibalism Puns, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Fluff and Crack, Implied Cannibalism, M/M, fluff in general...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:08:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29235810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvridden/pseuds/luvridden
Summary: the one about domestic Hannibal and Will
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 67





	me and my husband

Will had to hold in a snort when he got home. Hannibal would've found Will laughing at him rude. It was because Hannibal was in the kitchen, cooking dinner already. 

“Good, you're home,” Hannibal called to him, “come over here and taste this,” 

Will breaks into a hidden smile. “Gimme a moment to take off my shoes,” He hopes Hannibal thinks it's because he's stupidly in love with him, which he is, instead of it being because Will has another thing on his mind. He takes off the oxfords and tosses them carelessly next to Hannibal’s pair and his hiking boots. 

It's okay, Hannibal will fix it later, he always does. 

Hannibal sighs, exasperated, “Would it pain you to line up your shoes against the wall and treat them nicely?” yes, he's tired of his husband’s behavior, but he loves him anyway. 

“Very much,” Will responds seriously, “I have a bad shoulder, Hannibal,” he tries to roll his shoulder to demonstrate, only finding stiff and jerky movements. 

Hannibal gives his attention to Will immediately. “Is it giving you pain?”

“Not really, it's just limiting my range of movement. You can give me a massage later, if it makes you feel better,” He leans over the breakfast bar with the most innocent smile he can muster, watching Hannibal purse his lips in a show of irritation. 

“Taste this,” He starts, dipping a spoon into the stew he has simmering on the stove, “In my opinion, it needs more onion powder and parsley.” he takes it out and cups his hand under it as he passes it to Will. Will leans forward and closes his mouth over the spoon, Hannibal taking that opportunity to stroke his face lovingly. 

Will smiles at that, pulling away and trying to parse out his opinion. “Hm...green onion and parsley. Add the Italian for good measure.” 

Hannibal smirks. “I already did.” 

Will’s eyebrow raises. “Oh?” 

“He was very rude.” Hannibal replies sagely, stirring the stew, “He kept staring at our hands as we walked around the supermarket.” 

_ Right, the one who kept following us everywhere.  _ “Did you end up going to him for your check up?” By pure coincidence, he ended up being the doctor Hannibal was in to see. 

Hannibal scowls and stirs the stew with more determination. “He implied very unsavory things.” 

Will holds in a sigh. “Please be more specific.”

“He thought it prudent to imply I have HIV, and made a few passive aggressive comments about our relationship.” 

Will clicks his tongue, reaching out and covering Hannibal’s hand with his. “I'm sorry, baby,”

Hannibal smiles at the name, taking Will's hand and kissing the ring. “It's nothing that wasn't amended,” He replies, turning around and looking through the reorganized spice cabinet. “Will, where did you put the Italian seasoning?” 

Will covers his grin by looking down. “What makes you think I did that?” He says innocently, looking back up to Hannibal’s mostly unamused face. His eyes shine with mirth at Will’s antics (they do this every other week, he's used to it by now). 

Hannibal thinks it over for a moment, finding the Italian in the cupboard where the pans are. Will smiles proudly at Hannibal, lacing his fingers together and setting his chin on them. “In other news, no suspicions on who we are yet.” 

“Yet?” Hannibal asks, shaking the jar and setting it aside. 

“You killing the Doctor for serophobia and homophobia crimes was a little bit sloppy, honey,” Will said honestly, reaching for the tasting spoon. His hand is slapped away, and he frowns. 

Hannibal wags his finger at Will, “No double dipping. I'll get another spoon,” he turns around and grabs another spoon, catching his husband mid dip. He raises an eyebrow, pinching his wrist and taking the spoon from him. “What did I say?” 

Will winces, the edges of his grin turning downward. He shrugs. “I dunno, I was too focused on the soup,” 

“To atone, you can chop the green onions,” Hannibal says, passing a wooden cutting board and a paring knife to Will, “only about halfway up,” he shows with the backs of his fingers where he wants Will to stop chopping. 

Will nixes the urge to stab the knife into the cutting board between Hannibal’s fingers, getting to chopping. Just like how his Dad and Hannibal taught him. Hannibal smiles fondly when he sees Will’s technique, taking the board from him and sliding the slices into the stew. 

“Your technique has improved,” He notes with pride, mixing it all together. 

“It'd improve more if you would let me in the kitchen,” Will returned, cracking his knuckles just to see Hannibal wince. 

“I cook,” Hannibal misses the immediate smile on Will’s face and points the ladle at him, “you clean.” a dollop of stew falls off the handle and splatters on the countertop. 

Will’s struggle to hold in a grin and laughter comes to a head, making him cackle loudly at his husband. “I'm sorry,” He choked out, hand over his mouth. 

Hannibal glowers at the stray stew, ripping a paper towel off the roll and mopping it up. “No you aren't,” He refuses playfully, turning off the heat and removing the pot from the burner. 

“I'm not,” Will agreed, laughter having died down. “Hey, next place we go, can we get a place with electric burners?” At Hannibal's askance look, he nearly starts giggling again. “I'm just asking!” He defends, getting off the breakfast bar and gathering bowls for them. 

Hannibal says simply, “No, we cannot, Will,” he unties the apron around his waist and folds it methodically, setting it into one of the drawers. 

“It’d certainly help us keep a lower profile,” Will counters, taking the bowls to the table and setting them across from each other. He comes back and grabs a beer from the fridge, setting it on his end. 

Hannibal sighed, grabbing the pot and taking it to the table. “Grab me a white please,” He says to Will, plunking it on the table and ladling some into Will's, then his own. 

Will does as he said, grabbing the first white he sees and pouring it into Hannibal's glass. He passes it to Hannibal as he walks by and sits down, feet in Hannibal’s lap like always. 

“We can go somewhere more rustic next time we move,” Hannibal soothes, taking a drink of the wine after he starts eating the stew. “For this wine being the first one you grabbed, it actually compliments the stew quite well.” 

Will doesn't bother asking him how he knew Will didn't do a lot of searching, instead grabbing the glass out of his hand and taking a drink. “What the hell, it does.”

“Maybe you wanted to subconsciously please me,” Hannibal teases, savoring the flavors. 

“ _ I'm _ not a house husband,” Will comments under his breath. 

“What?”

“What? I didn't say anything.” Will plays innocent, taking a drink of his beer to hide his smile. 

*

“Doctor,” One woman fawns over Hannibal, willfully oblivious to Will being right beside him, “I'm so honored that you asked my husband and I to dinner!” she touches Hannibal’s arm and it's all Will can do to restrain himself from killing her then and there. 

He's pulled out of his reverie by Hannibal squeezing his waist and pulling him closer, three taps signaling no killing them yet. “Yes, we’d love to have you!” Will replies with double her amount of enthusiasm, leaning his cheek against Hannibal slightly, “He's been going on about it for weeks, he  _ loves _ you two.” 

The woman preens under their attention, low hanging fruit. “Oh, I'm so glad,” She gushes, “we’d heard he's such a good cook! We were waiting for an invite  _ forever _ !” she titters, not noticing of the two of them making dinner plans. 

“We’ll be having French,” Hannibal elaborates congenially, passing his flute of champagne to Will. Will takes a socially appropriate amount of time to drink, passing it back to Hannibal.

Once the egotistical couple moves out of earshot, Will hisses to Hannibal, “Really? We’ll be having French?” 

Hannibal hisses back, “It works, will it not?” he leans in closer, his mouth touching the shell of Wills ear, “And, darling, can I trust you to rein in your possessiveness? I don't want the night spoiled because you have an itchy trigger finger,” 

Will scoffs, “I am not possessive,” he almost squirms his way out from under Hannibal's grip, if only his hand didn't clamp tighter in return. Hannibal pinched his hip in response. 

“You were ready to blow our cover because she touched my arm,”

“I didn't like her because her husband was right there and she was flirting with a taken man, Hannibal,” 

“Darling,” Hannibal began, spinning Will around in his arms to face him, “need I remind you that I know that I'm yours?” 

Will pouts, crossing his arms petulantly. “I don't know, do you?” 

“It seems one of us here needs a reminder,” Hannibal replies playfully, kissing Will’s cheek. “I’m yours, Will,” 

A smile breaks across Will's face. “Shut up.” 

*

The news that this egotistical couple is missing doesn't hit for a few weeks later, and by the time everyone else knows that they're gone, Will and Hannibal are already on their way to Greece. The normal dynamic ensues: Will kicks off his shoes carelessly and Hannibal straightens them. Hannibal cooks, Will cleans. 

Hannibal remains reclusive, content to stay home. It gets harder for Will to contain his laughter every day when he sees Hannibal preparing dinner as he gets home. He lets out a slight giggle one day, managing to pass it off as a cough. 

“You're obviously having fun at my expense,” Hannibal notes as he flips over a pancake one morning, “You might as well come out with it.” 

“What do you mean, Hannibal?” Will asks, drinking his coffee. “Can’t I just think of something funny?”

Hannibal retorts, filling up his coffee cup, “Not when you start giggling every time you look at me.” 

“I don't giggle,” Will responds, somewhat offended. 

“You have been for the past month.” Hannibal counters, pointing at him with the spatula. 

Will sighs, “Whatever you say,” then adds under his breath, “wench.”

“What did you say?” 

Will struggles to keep the grin off his face. “I didn't say anything,” 

“Yes you did,” Hannibal says, pouring the last of the batter into the hot pan, “I certainly heard something.” 

Will rolls his eyes, “Maybe it was your imagination.” 

Hannibal sighs, knowing he's not going to get anywhere. 

Hannibal ends up throwing a butter knife at Will’s head when Will lets out another laugh. “Will Graham, so help me if you don't tell me what you're laughing at--”

Will holds his hands up in surrender. “I'm not laughing at anything!” 

“You're going to sleep on the couch,” Hannibal deadpans, turning off the electric burner and staring Will down. “and you're going to do it until I say so,” His eyebrows raise, so Will knows he's serious. 

Will cannot resist the urge to tease Hannibal. “Aww, are you sure you can stay away from me for that long?” He reaches over to take Hannibal’s hands, only to be smacked away. 

“I'm glad this is all amusing to you,” Hannibal snaps, batting at Will’s persistent hands. “You can amuse yourself with cooking for yourself.” 

Will finally gets a hold of Hannibal’s hands and brings them to his chest. “You feel that? This beats for you,” 

Hannibal contains a smile at Will’s cheesy line and looks down, still trying to be mad at him. “That was what the kids call corny.” He says flatly, looking off to the side petulantly. 

Will says arrogantly, “You love me.”

“No I don't.” Hannibal steadfastly refuses.

Will chirps, “Sure you do!” he pulls his wiggling husband closer, managing to keep his grip tight on him. Hannibal still moves around easily enough with his husband clinging onto him. “I love you too,” He draws out the last word to be annoying, watching him cook. 

Hannibal manages to mostly quell the smile threatening to rise, leaning into his touch. “You're still sleeping on the couch.” 

Will says, “No, I'm not.” he sets his chin on Hannibal’s shoulder and starts humming. “I love you, Hannibal,” 

“If only there was someone who loved you the same.” Is Hannibal’s cool reply, “I am not that someone.”

“Well, then, you won't object to me leaving the house.” Will replies, detangling himself from Hannibal. 

Hannibal says confidently, “You won't,” 

“Won't I?” 

“Can't live with me, can't live without me.” Hannibal reminds him, “And, it'd be a shame to waste this second portion.” 

_ Goddamnit.  _

*

Will surrenders. It happens while Hannibal and Will are reading in bed, winding down to sleep. Or, Hannibal is reading, and Will has his head laid on Hannibal’s chest. It happens because Will starts laughing and Hannibal smacks him -- lightly -- with his reading glasses. “My love, will you finally tell me what's making you laugh? It's not my book.”

Will turns his eyes from  _ Lolita  _ and to Hannibal, setting his chin on his chest. He says, with as innocent a face and voice as possible, “It's because you're a house husband.”

Hannibal blinks and takes off the glasses, pinching them at the bridge. “A house husband?” Laughter threatens to break Will's composure. He doesn't repeat himself, watching Hannibal process. “And… tell me, how did you come to that conclusion?” he said, bookmarking the page and setting  _ Lolita _ on his nightstand.

Will situated himself on top of Hannibal, drawing imaginary patterns over his shoulder. “You act like a stereotypical housewife. ‘Mind your shoes’, you cook the food.”

Hannibal pouts, as much as he can. Then, he withdraws as punishment. 

Will holds in a sigh and tries to make Hannibal keep his eyes on Will. “No, no, no, baby, don't be like that.” 

“Like what?” Hannibal asked petulantly. He lets his chin be manually set back to Will.

“A brat.” Will said bluntly. At Hannibal's unimpressed eyebrow raise, he amends, “Okay, okay. I'm sorry for calling you a brat. Baby, I never said you being a house husband was a bad thing. I was just entertained at the notion.”

“You tamed me.” Hannibal sneered.

Will sighed. “No,” he corrected. “Nobody could tame you, you menace. Matter of fact, I like our domesticity.” his cheeks burned with the admission. This time, he's the one who's head is turned to make eye contact. It's Hannibal, smiling lovingly. “Are we okay?” he asked softly. Hannibal closes his eyes and nods, Will kissing his nose and setting his head on his chest. Both sleep well through the night. 


End file.
